We’ve been gone for three months. Maybe we should start by saying that three months away is not the same as three months sedentary. Time has its caprices, it plays with our perceptions, we forget that a week is 7 days, that time is measured in hours, minutes, seconds…

No, when travelling, we remember that time is measured in moments, in shared moments, in encounters and discoveries. And then, we realize that it doesn’t have the same meaning to say that we’ve been away for a month. So, we feel like saying that we saw the sun meet the mountains of the Cevennes when we spent our first night in Kokono, that we surprised an Isérois of adoption at the foot of his bed adorned with his desert coat, that he introduced us to the mountains, that we reconnected in Switzerland with ties that our hearts had never forgotten, that Italy welcomed us with its warm and comforting smile, that Italians are crazy about a madness that we shared with enthusiasm and joy!

So, yes, one could say that it has been three months since we left. But that would no longer make any sense, in fact.
We’ll say we’re gone. That it was the right thing to do and that every moment, every moment, every beat of the clock confirms it.

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